A Change in Routine... WOOHOO!

YES ! Finally a change in going to the office and sitting in front of my computer. Yesterday after complaining about this to JP, I went to the last bit of the CRS conference that has been going on all week. It was a strategic planning meeting for the next five years. Many partner organizations were present along with CRS staff from around the country. I really should have been there the whole week. I got a feel for what real bussiness counsel meetings are like (Mom, I'm begining to understand). CRS Senegal’s main focus right now is its micro finance program, which gives out loans to groups of women. It’s been very successful not only in return rates (99 %) but has also had positive impacts of families and has enabled women to start long-term investment projects. I've observed that a unique aspect of CRS is that it really focuses on local organisations to run the projects here. This way the local population manages the projects, leading to greater sustainable development. The role of CRS in many of the projects is to oversee the progress and provide financial assistance. The issue was brought up that there needs to be a greater focus on education and health projects, along with being more proactive in fundraising for support of these projects. After the meeting my job was to talk with some of the partners about the manual I’ve been working on and areas that could improve with the relationship with CRS (the manual contains all the imperative information a partner would need; from the values of CRS to how to go about project finances). Though my French limited complete understanding I think some of the partners were appreciative that someone was listening to their insight. I met a man involved with the Sesame project, which is a project to help promote the diversification of crops in Senegal in order to establish a more stable agricultural market. The main crop here is peanuts, so the challenges are educating people how to cultivate sesame crops and also to promote the positive benefits of this crop, which are that it is more durable to droughts, allows diversification and the export market for this crop is rising.

I might be heading down to Casamance with some of the CRS staff to see some of projects first hand such as the groups of women in the micro finance program and the peace building programs. I’m hoping this works out. If I go I’ll be leaving Sunday and back by Thursday. Don’t worry Mom and Dad, I’ll be back to meet you at the airport Friday morning. For those of you that don’t know my parents are coming to visit! We’re going to play the role of the tourist and head to Gambia, Cap Skirring and Ziguinchore.

P.S. If any of you are interested in reading about the other students experiences from SU in this program go to this website: http://www.seattleu.edu/idip/projects05.asp

Happy New Islamic Year!

This weekend I celebrated the Islamic New Year. For a little background information, the Islamic New Year is based on the cycles of the moon and is only 354 days long. It's celebrated on the first day of the first Islamic month, Muharram. A major part of the holiday is telling the story of Muhummad’s flight from Medina to Mecca. If you want the kids version of the story go to this website(it’s short and interesting, just copy and paste the site): http://www.socialstudiesforkids.com/articles/holidays/hegira.htm In Senegal the kids cross-dress and go around the neighbourhood dancing to the beat of little drums and asking for money, rice or basically anything anyone wants to offer. The best part of the holiday is that everyone eats lots of couscous with a really yummy sauce. I actually had dinner twice because I was invited to Awa Coli’s house but of course had to eat with the family too. That night I hung out with the neighbourhood posie and listened to the guys play the Djembe and sing the African songs they grew up to. All the kids gathered around and joined in the singing to. It’s not often that people spend the evening doing this in Dakar because it’s more urbanized than the rest of Senegal but Balakey explained to me that in the smaller villages this is what people do in the evenings. I’m thankful I got a small taste of it this weekend.

I hung out with a track buddy, Mor. I met his family and his friend who is a reggae singer in the group called School Afia. I watched his music video, which was pretty good and his music definitely makes you want to dance. He tried to get me to improvise with him (everyone here tries to make me do something half-way embarrassing) and I was wishing that you were here Suz to show him your singing talent. Mor and I went a beach that I had yet to discover. We ate cookies, and talked about relationships. This is something that seems to cause a lot of heartache here. After talking to quite a few of my friends, it seems like trust is a hard thing to come across. This partly ties in to the poverty here. People are looking for love, but also for a stable financial situation, so even when you’re with someone, the search for someone better off continues. Or at times parents arrange marriages regardless of the consent of their kids. And then there’s the factor of polygamy. I have the impression that it’s fairly complicated and a lot of people end up getting hurt. I’m thankful not to be involved with that type of drama.

This weekend I also went to a soirée with the track team. Every weekend they get together at someone’s house, dance, eat dinner and give praise to the person who hosted the evening. I attempted to learn the dance. I forget what it’s called… the Sambi, Samba?? I got the very basic part down, but once people throw in the random pelvic thrusts along with the high-energy chicken leg movements… I’m lost. Ok my description does not do the dance justice because it’s actually really impressive, but also very foreign to me.

This week at work everyone’s at a conference that I’m not a part of so I don’t really have anything to actually do relating to CRS. I feel like I should be learning about something about development work, but maybe it’s the fact that some sectors of this field of work involve a lot of administrative efforts. I think I’m more of hands on type of person. The greatest learning experience so far has been living here with a Senegalese family, meeting the people, observing life in a place that most people don’t give attention to, and seeing the reality that others live by with all its similarities and differences. I guess I can’t force the other stuff. That is all from me now. Enjoy the Monday off in the U.S.!

Thoughts

I feel like I should have some profound insight or at least a good story every time I write, but today I’m not feeling it. This whole week I feel like I’ve been living my routine just like I would have a routine anywhere else. Most things seem familiar to me; all the cultural differences that intrigued me with its newness have been incorporated into what I view to be normal life. I feel like I should be noting everything and somehow registering it so that it will forever remain a part of me, but maybe just the fact that I live my routine here with joy and with the normal ups and downs is a way that I am allowing this experience to form me. There are certain little moments that would seem to insignificant if I tried to explain them and yet they are moments I never want to forget. Yesterday it was playing with baby Khady and watching her facial expressions, as she was completely entertained as we played together. I realize that the fact that I hardly ever know what she’s saying isn’t much of a barrier between us. When I go back to the U.S., I question what will keep everything close to my heart and not let it fade. What will keep me from diving right back into my routine at school, from always being busy and from putting the people and experiences here on a page in a memory book? I’m not really sure, but I believe the answer is in God. I pray that in my actions, my words, my thoughts and my prayers that I respect all that I am learning here and all the friendships and people I have encountered and created.

P.S. For everyone’s knowledge it’s JP’s birthday tomorrow (this is the boy of my dreams and just so happens to be my boyfriend too). HAPPY BIRTHDAY JP! I’d be more elaborate than that but I think I covered all the sentimental love-y stuff in the letter I sent you

100% Tourist

This weekend I was a true tourist. This started out by being scammed for money. When I tell the story it’s so obvious I was conned but what can I say, I’m a very gullible person. A seemingly decent guy approached me, we started a conversation, which led to him wanting me to send him a post card from Alaska…. all right innocent enough. Then he “randomly” ran into his friend who recognized me from Parcelle, though I couldn’t place him. With enthusiasm he explained to me that he was heading to the hospital because his wife just had a baby girl. He explained how it’s tradition to give a gift to the first foreigner he meets to ensure good fortune. At first I declined but then I totally fell for his detailed explanation and my role to accept this pendant on behave of the good fortune of his new enfant. After accepting, I was explained that for the baptism everyone gives a gift in return. I was late, he was in a hurry, and I ended up giving him four dollars because I didn’t have time buy food to give. I even gave him a heart felt “Félicitations.” Once we parted and after five minutes of reflection, I realized I was totally a sucker and completely scammed. You live, you learn.

As for the rest of my tourist experience… I travelled with four other girls to Toubab Diallo, a small town 40 km south of Dakar. We stayed in a hotel, maybe it was more like villa, which was right on the quiet coast. This place was ideal for a young adult crowd and offered different courses. I went to the African dance class and picked up a few moves, but came nowhere near to perfecting them with the natural energy and grace that the African dancers do. Saturday night there was a concert of dancing, singing and drumming… the dancers were amazing. I’m going to practice the moves every night so Mary and Roomy- be ready for some dance parties- African style when I get backJ. I woke up Sunday morning and went running along the coast and had a chorus of kids cheering Toubab (meaning whitely in Wolof) with grand enthusiasm and arms in the air as I passed by. I also went for my first swim in the ocean and back floated on the waves (I thought of you Grandma). When I made it back to the hotel I went down to the kitchen and got a bucket of hot water for the shower. It really was a divine moment to bath myself in warmth. Usually I take a shower in turbo speed, while kind of dancing around to stay warm.

I visited my first wild reserve! We drove around the Réserve Bandia, where I saw monkeys, boars, giraffes and many different types of antelope (okay I don’t know if they were all antelope, but large mammal animals). Some of these animals are natural to Senegal and others were imported from South Africa. We asked all the tourist questions that the guide had probably answered thousands of times before, though I do believe Dorothée did ask an especially unique question with: “Les antelopes, ils courent avec leurs pattes? (translation = do the antelopes run with their legs?)” The guide was laughing with us as we gave her a hard time suggesting that the antelope probably run on their heads. During the tour you can rest assure that we did break out in song as we recited all we could remember from the Lion King.

We came across a large Baobab tree that has the remnants of some skeletons resting inside the tree. The guide explained to us that this is where the Griots are buried. Griots are the keepers of the oral tradition. Every family has a griot that knows the history of their ancestry for hundreds of years except for members of the Diola tribe. I found this so intriguing and would love to sit down and listen to a Griot tell all the stories of a family history. These people are buried in the heart of the Baobab trees and not in the ground because they never work the earth. Senghor, the previous president, outlawed this practice because he viewed it disrespectful that these people could not be buried amongst everyone else. Since this time Senegal has been experiencing a drought, which follows the ancient belief that if griots were buried in the earth, water would not fall from the sky. The guide left us to question to whether this was mere coincidence or something more.

During our crammed taxi ride home, which took us 1.5 hours to go less than 25 miles due to traffic, dirt roads and constant speed bumps, we kept our minds off the pain of our rear-ends falling asleep by sharing funny/embarrassing stories. We had a few winner stories. One was the story I told of Andrea loosing a misplacing a pop-tart while on an airplane and only while walking down the aisle to go to the bathroom did we find it because the frosting had melting and cemented the pop tart to her rear-end… I can’t even type this without laughing. The other winner was a compilation of all the moments Sarah experienced of flying objects hitting her head. I felt very fortunate to have found some travelling buddies that I can genuinely laugh with.

Definitely this was a quality weekend. I had several moments where I was just amazed by my surroundings and where God has taken me on this adventure. I hope all of you are celebrating this day dedicated to love back in the U.S. God Bless!

Music Under the Stars

My first music concert was magnifique! The group, Nhojke (sp?), incorporated the guitar, drums, oboe, and 3 or 4 traditional instruments (I’ll have to learn what these are). You could see how all the musicians were enjoying themselves and the lead singer successfully enticed the audience to get up and dance with his enthusiasm and charm. The mix of all the instruments and the rhythm était genial.

That evening before the concert a beggar came up to me, an elderly man with no fingers, and I couldn’t just ignore him. I gave him some money, chatted with him for a bit using my sparse Wolof skills and then in return he prayed for me. I was with Cheikh, so he interpreted the prayer for me. When the man left I had no doubt that he was a person of faith, of goodness and from God. In the States, one can justify not giving money because there is a high possibility that they could use it for something that might not actually benefit them, but here the presence of drugs and alcohol is not very prevalent (I have yet to see one intoxicated person). Whether completely honest or not, I think these people use the money to survive. Which then poses the problem of figuring out how to interact with all the beggars. What I’ve begun to do is make friends with a few people that I regularly pass by. Alando calls me Madame Meghan every time I see him and today he told me to stop giving him money because it’s not about that. I laughed and told him that I realized we shared a friendship.

Random side note: People on the track team have had trouble with my name and have repeatedly called me maggot. We all had a good laugh after I explained that in english a maggot is an insect that eats dead meat.

Oh I asked Assane about the labour laws here and the worker unions. These do exist and enforce rightful pay to those workers officially registered, but the people who do manual labour for entrepreneurs are day workers. They are not registered in any way, and without any contract, so there’s no way to enforce rightful pay or gather accurate numbers on how many people work under these conditions. It’s obvious that Dakar is expanding and many new private homes are being built all around the area, therefore you can guess that working all day for 2 dollars is a reality for quite a few people.

Track Practice

First day of Lent, got up early and prayed. I think I'm going to start getting excited to wake up early. We'll see if I still think that in a week or so. Yesterday was so great, well okay the day at work was normal but track practice was wonderful. Coach Ba is one of those coaches, who from day one feels like he's a fatherly figure (a Mr. Berry type of guy). I did a workout partly on my own and partly with Coumba. Her goal is to be the national champion for the 800m. I realized after talking with her that club sports don't signify the same thing that they do in the U.S. These people are competing for national titles. The ambiance is great among all the athletes. People are goofing off, dancing, laughing, working hard... and its all so genuine. After practice we all went and drank Café Tuba (a specialized Senegalese tea) at a market place nearby. All of us sitting around a rickety old table outside, while the women preparing the tea made the yummy concoction made for one of those simple pleasure moments. Coumba and Mor walked me home and I was left excited to see everyone the next day. I love how everyone is open... no crap, no barriers or fakeness... at times I think I get tired of that in the U.S. Of course not with my close friends, but in the day to day encounters... actually I don't know if that's true either. I guess it’s just that this place seems a bit more real in that the people recognize what’s important and are not so caught up in all the hoopla that the U.S.

Un week-end bien amusé

First lesson of the weekend : never intake l’huile de palme (palm oil) and water at the same time. I learned the hard way. I had eaten a meal at a friend’s house that had palm oil in it and then headed off to mass. During mass I started getting these horrible stomach cramps and figuring I could tuff it out, I hide the pain by looking like I was intensely praying. But at one point we were standing and I just couldn’t take it so I told the guy next to me that I was sick and needed to head out. Luckily, he followed me out of the aisle because suddenly everything closed in on me and I couldn’t stand up. I was the one white girl making a commotion in church. I was helped out of the church and by this point I had a staff of clergy all around me. They laid me down and the most memorable part was the nun standing above me, fanning me off. I was so thankful to be at church where people could take care of me. They gave me a nice quiet room with a bed and a real toilet. After an hour or so, everything passes (you can guess what that means) and I was back on my feet.

Friday after work I went to the track and did a work out on my own. Today will be the first real practice for me. I’m amazed how willing the coaches are about including me. Given it is just a club team, but still they’ve already got their hands full and didn’t think twice about letting me join in. I also went to the beach this weekend and hung out with “the guys.” It’s such a treat just to listen to them sing and play the tumtums, especially when the ocean is your view. These guys really like to talk and explain everything to me, which is good because I’m gaining a better insight into the culture. The subject of unemployment came up again. People who are stuck doing manual labour for private entrepreneurs have it hard. They can work the entire day for two dollars. I asked Jazz if this was how much they were paid per hour and he just started laughing at me. Hard work all day for just two dollars… but if you don’t do that, then you have absolutely nothing. I’m curious if there are any labour unions or laws in the process of being passed to help this situation. I’m going to find out.

I also hung out at the university this weekend with Coura. We spent a relaxing day hanging out in the dorms, eating lunch, drinking tea, listening to music, chatting and braiding my hair. I wasn’t quite sure what I was in for, but it felt really good to have people playing with my hair so in no way was I going to protest. By the end, I had a bunch of little braids but they didn’t stay in too long because that night while trying to sleep my head was in a lot of pain. So close to midnight Khady and I took them all out.

I no longer have sympathy for anyone who complains that a dorm room is too small for two people because here the university is so crowded that some people sleep four to a room, meaning that two people share a twin bed. They weren’t really complaining about it, just stating how it is. I really like the campus, lots of trees and greenery. I learned that it is home to the largest library in Africa. I thought that was an impressive claim to fame.

This morning I was given one of the best compliments. Mamadou said that he has never seen an intern at CRS who has been as open to integrating and experiencing the culture as I have. I'm always battling myself trying to have confidence in my ability to make the most of my time here, and I really feel like there was some divine intervention in his compliment.

D'accord, il faut que je commence le travail. To all who are reading, I hope that life goes well and that you are taking the time to live this day out! God Bless!

Story Time

The First African Story I was told:

Once upon a time there was a girl. She wanted to find a husband and decided she would marry a man who did not have any scars. Her mother warned her that this was not normal and that she should be careful about desiring this. A man overheard the conversation and wanted to marry the girl, so he took the heart of the baobab tree, a tree that has no wounds or scars, all for himself. Now when the girl saw this man, he was flawless and didn’t have one single scar. Right away they were married and he took her far far away, so he could spend all his time with his wife and no one else. After the husband and wife travelled to where no one else lived, the man turned into a snake. When the wife saw this she began to run. She ran and ran but the serpent was right behind her. For days she ran and passed all the villages until she reached her own. When she found her mother, her mother reminded her that she had warned her about wanting to marry a man with no scars.

This is a song in Wolof explained to me by Prince and translated into English by myself. I’ll let you all extract the many morals for yourselves.

Yesterday was a great day. After work I went running with Arona, who I found out is a soccer player hoping to go to South Africa to play for a team there. He took me to the stadium, which isn’t too far from where I live and introduced me to the Track coach for the Dakar club team. I’m going to start training today… I have no idea what I’m in for. The practice times interfere with my work schedule most days, so I’m not sure how it will all work out, but I’m excited to do a workout with others.

I went over to Jazz’s house with Prince, Balakey, Idi and Pap last night. I learned how to make the Senegalese tea, which is simply tea with lots of sugar, but it has to be made in a certain overly complicated way or else the drinking tea-scene would loose some of its character. I was slightly pressured into dancing to the beat of the tumtums… we all had a good laugh at this and I learned to be sans complexe. We spent the rest of the evening talking, mostly about religion and how there are many similarities between Islam and Christianity. One of the founding principles of Islam is living peacefully and forgiving others, which is easily observed in the Senegalese culture. Another thing I discovered was the reason for women to be covered (this is a practice that some Muslims follow and others don’t, personal preference). The idea is that this allows women to be valued for their person and not just for their physical appearance, along with preventing men from thinking of less-than-holy thoughts. In the U.S. I think we tend to view the Muslim practice of covering women as oppressive, but how much more oppressive is U.S.’s culture of objectifying women as only beautiful bodies? It’s interesting to ponder.

Alright I’m going to begin work. This weekend I have a full program. I’ll be filling you all in on Monday!

ROOMY- HAPPY BE-EARLY BIRTHDAY! I'll be thinking of you on Sunday!

Mes Pensées, Le Voyage à la Maison et Pauvre Simba

In a certain way, I feel like I was made to fit into this culture, to fall in love with it. When I say this I don’t mean to give the imppression that everything is perfect and pure bliss, that’s not the case. But I am filled with a contentment when I’m crammed into a car rapide, unable to move and holding my hand out to help pass the change back and forth from the passengers and the guy collecting money, or when I see people walking down the street prayer beads in hand and openingly praying. A charm exists in the fact that faith is not hidden in this culture. I just can’t help but think I was created in a unique way that allows me to see the attractiveness of the people and life here.

Yesterday I was attempting to go home after dark by taking a car rapide. I only had a 500 CFA (equivalent of a dollar) on me, so I couldn’t afford a taxi home and was really depending on the car rapide. Besides the fact that I never know which car goes where, yesterday I was even in more confusion because the car going to where I live never showed up. Luckily, I met a student who was attempting to go to the same area as me. We took a different car rapide and transferred cars in a different area. By luck there happened to be a car rapide heading to Parcelle at the other station.

During my short contemplation on deciding whether I should start panicking about being stranded, I realized that I can rely on the kindness of people here to help me out. I’ve found that people here will take the time to help a stranger out, even if that means taking a few minutes out of their own agenda.

Oh I do have sad news to share. Simba, the goat that was spared during la fête de Tabaski, passed away this morning. He had been sick and didn’t make it through the night. Everyone was pretty sad about it as we watched him being dragged out of the house… poor Simba. He was a good sheep.